IN THE KITCHEN
And, oh, that table. It's my favorite thing to see on those afternoons. Chrome. Vinyl. Mid-century. A wedding present from Hans's father and step-mother. Though the wedding is indefinitely posponed, the table still resides with us. (A thankful round of applause goes to Hans's brother, who hauled the set from Georgia to our apartment, some 500-some miles.)
The table isn't for everyone, no. It's old, perhaps outdated. But it's sturdy. It's welcoming. When my friends visit, we sit for breakfast, sipping coffee and sharing waffles. It's a conversation piece. A workspace on which to prepare food, sew ornaments, iron clothes, wrap presents.
It's not perfect. Atop one chair, the vinyl is cracked and peeling. There are some smudges along the table's "rim," most likely from moving one place to another, one kitchen to another. The table itself is etched with knife marks, scarred from cutting. It collects crumbs (or, rather, we forget to brush them away). It gets dirty. It's not perfect.
But on the afternoons when I walk in, look to my left, and see the golden hour of light, it could be.
Recipe for eggplant and mushroom sandwiches can be found here.